Father's Day

I was thinking about Father's Day and my own dad and thought I'd write a little bit about my dad.

As a child the main thing I knew was that my dad went to work. And he also came home again, and that was a time to look forward to arriving. "Daddy's home!" we kids would shout and run to the driveway. Dad brought energy into the house with him. I liked to listen to him tell Mom his day, often while standing, as though he were too wound up to sit. He wasn't the kind of guy to come home and sit with a beer. He was the one to ask if you wanted to do something fun, because he was likely to say yes, or tell us to "ask your mother" which probably meant he didn't want to be the one to say no.

For the most part, Dad wasn't the disciplinarian, mostly because he was at work a lot, so it was left to Mom. That, perhaps unfairly then, made him more of the "fun guy." But if you did upset him - look out! No one wanted Dad angry with them. He didn't get over it right away. I think I spent a fair amount of time trying to please my dad. I wanted his approval, as little girls tend to do with dads.

My dad played fast pitch softball, and he was the pitcher. We kids liked to watch him play and cheer him on. As a young teen, I proudly wore one of his softball jerseys. Dad sometimes took us fishing, which I didn't care for, but liked spending time with him. Dad set off the fireworks, swam with you, taught you how to catch and throw a ball, helped you learn to ride a bike and drive a car, killed bugs and mice and brought you home puppies. My dad loved having a baby in the house and hated when someone inevitably spilled their milk at supper.

When I was a teenager, Dad and Mom bought a grocery store, so there was always a job for me. I got to know more about my dad then. He knew a lot about running a business, he was kind and friendly with customers, old ladies loved him. His employees liked him. He could cut meat and would explain to me what he was doing, and I was in awe that he knew so much. I learned a new respect for him.

When I became an adult, I learned that my dad would still love me even if I really screwed up. He would always show up when I needed someone to help me move. I learned he cared about my happiness. I saw him cry only one time, when my husband died. I learned that his feelings ran deeper than he usually showed.

My dad drinks coffee when he's thirsty, even when it's hot outside, knows the price of everything he buys, knows where to get the best meal for the best price, can cook if he has to, cleans and can fix things. He plays cards, likes to fish but doesn't hunt and likes country music and dancing. He is also a talented artist, making and carving things of wood.

Dad likes a funny story. He likes kids. He's willing to help people when he can. He delivers "Meals on Wheels."

My mom used to tell me that I was like my dad. I don't know if that's true, but I hope I have some of his traits. He is a good man. I'm proud to call him my dad.